


Pillow Talk

by Shamelessquestions (KagekitsuneXXX)



Series: Domestic Bliss [13]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Domestic Bliss, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Playful Sex, Rimming, silliness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-13
Updated: 2014-12-13
Packaged: 2018-03-01 08:30:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2766461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KagekitsuneXXX/pseuds/Shamelessquestions
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been a long day at work and all Mickey wants is for Ian to make it all better.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pillow Talk

Quitting time, and there was no one the happier for it than Mickey Milkovich. It had been the longest day at the end of the longest week, and by the end of it all even his eyelashes were hurting. It was a bunch of thoroughly exhausted men who parted ways at the construction site and Mickey wasted no time making his way home. He sighed with relief when he managed to nab a seat in the packed subway car and settled in for the journey home only to have a heavily pregnant woman waddle in at the last second. A quick look around told him that no one was about to go the gracious route any time soon and he sighed again. He nodded to her, offering her his seat and she gratefully accepted. Instead, he leaned against the doors and resigned himself to staying on his feet for a while longer.

Mickey had one simple plan in mind for the rest of the night: go home, whine pathetically to his boyfriend and leave it to his slice of gingerbread to make it all better. By the time he got there, Ian was just finishing up the dishes and Mickey kicked off his shoes and socks, dumped all his crap and headed straight for him.

“Hey,” Ian greeted, smiling softly as he came around out of the kitchen. He grabbed Mickey’s T-shirt with both hands and pulled him into a kiss before reaching up to scratch him behind the ears like some sort of pet cat. “You alright? How was your day?”

“Not so bad,” Mickey murmured, soothed and warmed far too easily by Ian’s smile and touch. It took him a second to remember that, no, he was not alright and he had a game plan to follow. “I hurt everywhere,” he amended quickly, “the new fucking foreman is working us like we’re in a chain gang.” He went for maximum sympathy points and adopted his best wounded puppy look. It was nowhere even close to being as good as Ian’s, but then again, it didn’t have to be. “I’m sore all over.”

Ian frowned his sympathy as he stroked Mickey’s face. “You hungry? Eat first and I’ll take care of you afterwards.”

Music to Mickey’s ears… He spent the next few minutes happily shoveling food into his face while he and Ian caught each other up on work. He ignored the carefully strewn pamphlets about GEDs and adult education next to his plate while he ate and chatted. This was Ian’s new mission now and he was like a dog with a bone.

After a few months of fruitless searching after his graduation, Ian had managed to get his foot in the door in the corporate world and had settled into it with gusto. He had finally felt secure enough to quit the club scene and now that they had a little wiggle room, he was determined to browbeat Mickey into advancing himself. Mickey was obstinate and uncooperative. Construction was rough, but it suited him, had decent pay and benefits and it had been working out so far, so good. The last thing Mickey wanted to do was rock the boat while flaming out, so Ian needed to let it go.

After dinner, Ian washed Mickey’s plate and then directed him to the shower, piloting him under the spray of warm water while washing his back and running a soothing hand over Mickey’s sore muscles. Mickey could only sigh blissfully when each time Ian leaned in and nipped him on a shoulder.

“You’re going to get a bad back or a bum knee or some shit at this rate,” Ian grumbled as he pressed his thumbs into Mickey’s lower back. “I don’t want this job fucking your body up. I have very long-term plans for it.”

“People do construction for decades and don’t get fucked up.”

“Doesn’t mean you’ll be one of them, does it?” Ian continued undeterred. “I wish you could find something else that isn’t so taxing…and dangerous.”

Mickey rolled his eyes at the high drama of it all, but was momentarily distracted by Ian sliding the washcloth down his ass before pressing it in a slightly. Mickey shuddered and automatically leaned forward, bracing his hands against the wall and spreading his feet while Ian cleaned him.

“I mean, there is so much stuff you could do, if you wanted,” Ian continued, one hand gripping and massaging Mickey’s shoulder while the other continued pressing into him. “You’re so smart, Mick; I bet you’d be great at anything you tried. You’d just have to think about what you want to do and figure out a pathway to it, you know?”

Mickey wished Ian would just stop talking. It wasn’t as if he didn’t want to have some flashier, higher paying job—something Ian would be proud of—but it was what it was and Mickey was who he was. His father had taught him and his brothers that they were good for the hustle and not much else, and yes, he knew Terry Milkovich was probably not the best assessor of talent and potential, but then again, neither was Ian. His boyfriend was all drive, ambition, and dreams and stardust, and Mickey wanted Ian to have everything, and—all joking about being a kept man aside—Mickey wanted to give him everything. But some people had limiters, a cap on how much they could do and how far they could go, and Mickey figured he was honestly doing the best he could with what little he had.

“I was looking up some stuff online and—” Ian was cut off by Mickey abruptly straightening and turning around. He thought Mickey was about to snap at him so he was surprised when instead his boyfriend leaned up and kissed him deeply.

“I fucking hurt,” Mickey said simply and Ian stared at him silently, his eyes raking Mickey’s face before he finally sighed and nodded, defeated for the moment.

Mickey spent the next few minutes getting fluffed this way and that with a soft, massive towel while he glared half-heartedly at Ian’s unabashed glee. Ian grinned back broadly at Mickey’s flushed face and chaotic hair, before wrapping him in said towel and pushing him off towards the bedroom.

“Lie down on your stomach,” Ian ordered and Mickey complied happily, relieved to be off his feet. Ian grabbed the warming lube off the bedside table and climbed into the bed to straddle Mickey’s naked body. He settled on the back of Mickey’s thighs, his dick cradled against Mickey’s ass and his boyfriend flexed instinctively against it. “Stop,” Ian said and squirted a little of the liquid onto Mickey’s back, “this first.”

Mickey groaned deeply as Ian spread the lube across his back and began his work of loosening Mickey’s knotted muscles. Ian spent a few minutes massaging his shoulders, before making his way to Mickey’s biceps and down to his fingers on both sides. He continued the deep rub, responding to Mickey’s pained hissing and moans of pleasure and slowly worked his way down to his boyfriend’s lower back until Mickey’s entire body sagged in relaxation. Ian leaned forward, keeping his hands kneading into Mickey’s flesh as he bit into a muscled shoulder and dragged another ragged moan out of Mickey.   

“You want to go to sleep?” Ian asked while he kissed between Mickey’s shoulder blades, “it’s okay if you want to sleep…”

“Uh uh,” Mickey shook his head. Not while there was the hard insistence of Ian’s cock dragging against his back as the redhead bit and sucked at his flesh. “Don’t stop.”

Ian huffed against Mickey’s skin and breathed him in. He kissed along the dip of Mickey’s back, following the pathway of his spine until his lips grazed his boyfriend’s firm ass. He teased Mickey a bit, trailing his tongue down the crack slowly before throwing it in reverse and trailing it back up again until Mickey was squirming and demanding.

“Ian!”

“Hmm?” Ian smirked at Mickey’s annoyance but stopped his teasing. He spread Mickey apart and gave Mickey a firm swipe of his tongue. He gripped Mickey’s hips and pulled back, guiding Mickey into a kowtowing stance that opened him up further.

Mickey sat up a little and reached back to rub his hand through Ian’s hair in wordless encouragement. His moans and panting magnified when Ian reached around to stroke his cock, making his body arch and stiffen. With Ian’s tongue darting into him and licking him, and the warm hand tugging at his cock, Mickey edged closer and closer to his climax.

“Oh my god, I get it now!”

Mickey’s eyes flew open at the sudden cessation of sensation as Ian abruptly bolted upright.

“I can’t believe I didn’t get it before,” Ian told his bereft boyfriend, “this is a Rusty Trombone! What we’re doing right now, this is what it is!”

Mickey blinked once as he stared at Ian’s rapturous face. His eyes were damp from the imminence of his orgasm and there wasn’t a brain cell that was working right.

“I…you…what?”

“I would hear them mention that shit in the clubs sometimes, even back when I was working at the White Swallow and I never really got it but I never got around to asking, but I can’t believe I didn’t figure it out,” Ian continued excitedly, “I mean you’re the trombone, right, and I’m blowing into you and pumping the thing? It’s so obvious now.”

They were in the throes of an intensely intimate moment and clearly they were completely alone. Yet still Mickey looked around the room, hoping to find someone to bear witness to the absolute shit he had to put up with sometimes, but, of course, there was no one. He looked back at his idiot, who was still kneeling behind him, nodding to himself, a self-satisfied smile plastered on his stupid face.

“You know those questions that are always just in the back of your head, waiting to be answered? Like, they aren’t important enough to needle at you and you forget them most of the time, but once you get the answer,” Ian sighed happily, “this is so intensely satisfying.”

Mickey looked at him in disbelief. He could kill him right now and there wasn’t a court in the land that would convict him. “You know what _else_ would be ‘intensely satisfying?’” Mickey sputtered, “getting to bust this nut, Ian!”

“Oh right, Jesus, I’m sorry,” Ian said apologetically and stroked Mickey’s thigh soothingly. “Lost the plot for a second there,” he reached down to pick up where he left off, but Mickey now found himself lost in thought—the last place one wanted to be when in the middle of foreplay.

“What, no good?” Ian asked when Mickey seemed unresponsive.

Mickey looked back at his boyfriend, brow furrowed in weird contemplation. “You know, I never found out what a Dirty Sanchez is…” he admitted sheepishly.

“That’s another one!” Ian popped back up again, “I mean there aren’t even any context clues with that one. I mean, why Sanchez? Is it a Mexican thing?”

They stared at each other in silence, their minds bogging at their ignorance of dirty slang. Mickey finally snapped, “goddamn it, where’s your fucking laptop?”

Ian scrambled to get it and before long they were knee-deep in Urban Dictionary, falling down the rabbit hole of naughty nomenclature.

“That is disgusting,” Ian groaned as they clicked from one related term to another. “Who the hell is doing this shit? What kind of freaks are out there?”

“Click that one,” Mickey directed and his eyebrows shot up in surprise, “now that’s just physically impossible.”

“I don’t know…as much as I hate to think about it, I think Fi could pull it off. She can put her foot behind her head like that.”

“Jesus, is Gumby one of your ancestors?” Mickey looked back at the description of the insane sex act and then back at Ian, “can _you_ put your leg beh—“

“No, I cannot put my leg behind my head, Mickey!” Ian snapped at his snickering boyfriend, “what possible purpose could that serve? What the hell kind of pleasure could you get from me being able to do that?!”

“Well…” Mickey nodded at the screen.

“Actually, I think that would work better if you were the one putting your legs behind your head,” Ian pointed out.

Mickey shrugged and regarded his legs, wiggling his toes in consternation as he tried to work out the logistics of such a feat. He grabbed one knee and yanked and Ian burst out laughing.

“Fuck off, you idiot. You’ve got legs like sexy tree stumps.  No way are they getting up there.”

“Don’t underestimate what I can do when I’m truly motivated,” Mickey said suggestively and raised a lecherous eyebrow at his boyfriend.

“I don’t,” Ian said beneath his breath, “I think you could do anything.”

Mickey pretended that he hadn’t heard that and quickly clicked on another promising, distracting link. “That’s what a ‘Superman’ is? Man, no wonder my trash talk is so subpar. I am way behind on all this shit.”

The description of the sex move made Ian giggle. “That’s actually kinda funny.”

This earned him a sharp look from Mickey, “I swear to god, Ian, if you do that to me when I’m asleep, I will fuck you up. I will strangle you with the same sheet.”

“Sure, sure… The Spiderman one is just gross. Only sugar daddies could get away with that shit more than once. Batman doesn’t get a move? That’s cold.”

“What’s the high five thing?” Mickey asked and Ian clicked on it so they could read it eagerly. “What, it’s just a regular high five. I thought it would be about dudes slapping their dicks together or something.”

“Me too. Quite frankly, I’m disappointed by the lack of dick slapping,” Ian murmured, “a ‘high five’ should be all about dudes slapping their dicks together,” there was a pause before Ian declared suddenly, “I’m putting it in!”

Mickey was all for it and cackled while Ian began making the post. He stopped Ian though when he thought it over. “No wait, it makes no sense. A high five can’t be two dudes, that’s only two dicks. How would the ‘five’ factor in?”

“Ugh, maybe with the balls?”

“Then everything would add up to six! The math doesn’t bear out,” Mickey complained.

“So, let’s make it five dudes slapping their dicks together then; maybe add in some kind of jump-shot,” Ian suggested and Mickey was bowled over.

“Oh my god, you’re a fucking genius, I fucking love you. Do it!” and then they giggled like idiots over their newly invented, orgiastic sex move.

By the time they closed the laptop, there had been so many things that could never be unseen. There was not enough brain bleach to rid them of their new knowledge. Mickey shook his head in bewilderment, sincerely glad to be out of the rabid jungle of the dating game.

“That was ridiculous; all of it. I feel filthy,” he mused as Ian put the laptop on the floor next to the bed. 

“Yeah, but not like a bad filthy, right?” Ian asked as he settled back next to Mickey. “Like a raunchy kind of filthy, yeah?”

Mickey grinned and grabbed his smug-looking boyfriend and hauled him into a kiss and Ian quickly clambered on top of him.

“No Supermanning, or donkey punching!” Mickey warned, laughing as Ian burrowed into him, leaving him ticklish all over as their arousal came roaring back.

“Don’t stifle my creativity,” Ian sniffed and spread Mickey’s legs to settle between them. He grabbed the lube and coated his cock liberally. Before long he was sinking blissfully into Mickey. “Look between your thighs; it’s a bird, it’s a plane, it’s—”

“—a fucking idiot. Get the fuck out of me, you jackhole! You don’t deserve to get laid.” Mickey tried half-heartedly to squirm away but Ian quickly latched on and they wrestled for a few minutes, snickering until the mood calmed and Mickey wrapped his legs around Ian and they both began rocking together in the way they had both been dreaming about all day.

* * *

Mickey was sprawled atop Ian; his head nestled against Ian’s chest as his boyfriend raked his fingers through his dark hair and kissed the top of his head. Mickey had exchanged one type of tired soreness for another, but it was just fine by him because he actually loved this type of ache. He could agree with Ian in one instance: the only thing he wanted wearing him out was his redheaded prince, especially since he did it so well. He shifted, snuggling against Ian and allowing Ian to coddle him. He had yet to admit to loving it, rather he blamed his compliance on Ian exhausting him and destroying his resistance.

“So I’ve been doing some research online,” Ian began quietly. “I found a really good and convenient program that is pretty close by…”

Ian spoke in a nonchalant, oh-by-the-way manner that wasn’t fooling Mickey in the slightest. Not when he was pressed against Ian’s chest and could hear Ian’s heart trip and begin racing and the small intake of breath just before he had begun speaking. All this over another fucking piece of paper… Ian and his fucking pieces of paper; upon which he heaped all the meaning in the world. He had been willing to leave Mickey over a marriage certificate and now he was clearly willing to go to the mat over a goddamned GED; all because he thought Mickey was worth more than what he was—deserved more than what he had.

Mickey sighed and lifted himself away from Ian in order to stare down at him. He could see the worry and apprehension filling the green eyes, even as he felt Ian tightening his grip on his hips. Ian was clearly readying himself for a knockdown, drag-out, while equally obviously not wanting it. Sometimes Mickey wondered just what the greater trial was: loving someone this much or being loved this much? He wondered if it was a question Ian wrestled with as well.

“Jesus fuck, where’s the goddamned school?” Mickey huffed and Ian blinked up at him in confusion until it gave to one of Ian’s dazzling smiles. Mickey sighed, completely defeated.

“You’re not going to regret this, Mickey; I promise,” Ian whispered and cradled his face.

No, he wouldn’t; he could admit it already. Even if he flamed out, he knew he wouldn’t regret anything. When it came to Ian, he never did.


End file.
